


No Roots

by Makeyourbodyacanvas



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alien/Human Relationships, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dom/sub Undertones, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Holoforms (Transformers), Light Dom/sub, M/M, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Polyamory, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Protectiveness, Reincarnation, Size Difference, Size Kink, Slow Burn, Smut, Team as Family, Threesome - F/M/M, Twincest, Twins, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:21:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26795059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makeyourbodyacanvas/pseuds/Makeyourbodyacanvas
Summary: Orion Witwicky-Watson was a typical adolescent human with an atypical destiny. Besides the odd dreams she’s had ever since childhood, she lived a good life—until her cousin bought a car that turned out to be an alien robot. Now caught up in the crossfire in the war between the Autobots and Decepticons, Orion can no longer dismiss her dreams when she’s about to get much closer to the truth than she ever imagined.
Relationships: Sideswipe (Transformers)/Original Female Character(s), Sideswipe/Sunstreaker (Transformers), Sideswipe/Sunstreaker (Transformers)/Original Female Character(s), Sunstreaker (Transformers)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

Orion Witwicky-Watson didn’t often remember her dreams. Yet when she did, they always left her bewildered. 

Ever since she was a little girl, around the age of seven if she remembered correctly, the dreams had grown more and more intense—more graphic. Almost like her memories.

_ She weaved her way through buildings that grow into the sky, many strands of steel and glass like the stems of a wild plant, organic in shape, coming together and parting. The age of the machine had begun, but there were no people in sight. What took the humans place were sentient, self-configuring robotic lifeforms and they were in the midst of a war.  _

_ They moved about frenzied, the sounds of what was equivalent to gunshots and canon blasts echoed throughout the night. Violence could be heard all around, metal clashing together in battle, the screeching of the wounded—and the panic thrumming in her chest felt all too real. Something was coming for her, something she was trying to escape.  _

She had this same exact dream at least once a week. Sometimes she tried to hide under the rubble, other nights she attempted to communicate with the robots, but it was always in vain. They never saw her, never heard her. It was like she was a ghost. 

_ Big and small, young and old alike scrambled across stainless steel streets in hopes of hiding shelter. Although the language they spoke was alien to her, the fear was painfully obvious. Their lives were in danger, their world was at an end. _

This particular dream haunted her since childhood. It was always the same starting place and the same city with the same panic ridden robots. She could never remember what frightened them, however.

_ She moved through the intricate streets of the dream world, feeling the coolness of hard iron beneath her feet. Yet, for what was possibly the first time, she noticed that she didn’t actually have feet. They were human-like in nature, but like everything else around her they seemed appropriate for the distant machine world. It surprised her that it felt almost natural to be stuck in a humanoid frame. That thought also scared her.  _

_ She somehow knew that she was in the heart of a city. What she knew was once a bright, beautiful, lively place was now shutting down into becoming a dead world. She stealthily traveled across the mass streets, sticking close to the shadows. She nervously watched her back as she ran. _

_ Odd that she knew she was going to meet her demise. _

_ She came to a stop at the edge of the city, still keeping to the shadows for extra precaution. Up a head was a large, domed fortress colored gold. She gazed longingly across the expanse of open ground that it would take to even reach the dome.  _

_ Tenth grade biology came to the forefront of her mind. Adrenaline was activating her sympathetic nervous system, making her heart beat faster, diverting blood to her muscles and away from her gut. Her senses were on high alert. Every color was brighter, every noise louder, every stranger a cause to make her heart beat more fiercely still. Flight or fight, right? _

_ She bolted down the beaten pathway like an Olympic runner at the start gun; quickening her pace to an all out sprint. The pounding noise of her metal soles resonating off the walls of the alley with a clanging echo that matched her heart throbbing inside her chest with the thick grief and fear she felt as she ran. _

_ She was halfway there when the growl of an engine—shaking, reverberating, rattling—shook so much that she could feel her brain clatter around in her skull.  _

_ She had no choice but to stop short and hide back in the darkness of shade that not even the night could provide. She’s been found, followed by a monster. Orion desperately wanted to wake up now, to be able to forget about such a horrible dream, but deep down she knew that there was nothing she could do. She’d wake up when she was done observing, reliving.  _

_ The sound was so familiar. She couldn’t place it exactly, but she knew that sound. There was something moving in the darkness behind her—something that was meant to be a scary story, a monster constructed out of children’s fear. _

_ She hadn’t realized she started to silently cry. Something was behind her and it was anything but good. Her body felt hot and sweat started trickling down her neck.  _

_ The sound grew closer. _

_ Who was that? The answer was on the tip of her tongue. She dared to look over her shoulder. The shadows were thick and danced around her, but it still wasn’t enough to conceal the figure that had been stalking her.  _

_ For the first time she was finally granted the privilege to see what invoked such fear into her very being. For the first time she saw him. _

_ He was massive. His height alone was intimidating, but his frame was obviously forged for battle and the heritage of war.  _

_ Orion ran away. It seemed she no longer cared about hiding. The dome was just in reach, she just needed to run a little faster. _

_ She ran and ran, her soles crashed into the metal a few times before she transitioned to the balls of her feet. Her feet slipped outwards on the shards of glass beneath her as she dodged her attacker’s grasp, the cold air shocking her throat and lungs as she inhaled deeper, faster. Her heart beated frantically, all or nothing.  _

_ The giant, metal monster was running towards her. She could see him moving in the shadows, making a ruckus. _

_ The snarl behind her ear made her heart stop. _

_ She didn't make it very far, though, because something hit her from the back with a great amount of force and warmth spread across her neck, but there had been no pain. She was just numb. The blow had her stumbling forwards, knocking her to her knees. Dead weight fell on top of her, snarling, tearing at her, and all she could do was scream as it felt like she was being set on fire little by little. She struggled, but somehow managed to flip over. She tried to use her legs to push the monster away, but he filled her vision and all she could see were his glowing red eyes as he lunged forward.  _

_ Running on nothing but instinct, Orion’s hands shot out, slamming into his jaw, to keep him away from her throat. He snapped at her face a few times before he sank his sharp, metal teeth into her wrist. At that point, Orion barely felt the pain. Her mind was a little fuzzy, but she knew that she had to keep fighting and somehow keep him away from her throat.  _

_ The monster didn't say anything as he continued his attack, looking her dead in the eyes. She felt the bright little strips of fire spreading over her opened chest and stomach that had been ripped at violently, and even as the pain numbed and the world was slowly fading, Orion stuck her chin out defiantly. She couldn't form any words so she let her actions speak for her, and she wasn't going to die in fear. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. _

_ The monster struck, sinking his long, metal claws for fingers into her chest, rooting them into her heart so that he could pull at the organ. And the last thing Orion remembered, before the blood finally started to melt into the darkness, was a flash of something large with the colors blue and red reflecting over his shoulders as he continued to slowly crush her heart. _

_ Then there was nothing. _

* * *

  
**_Tranquility, California, 2007_ **

It was Mojo’s high pitched, ear shattering bark that jolted Orion from the dream and back into reality.

Orion’s eyes snapped open when she was suddenly assaulted by slobbery licks on her face. With the dream all but forgotten at the current moment, she focused her attention on the shaking, small sized dog with a big personality. 

“Ew,” she moaned as she was forced to sit up to avoid another one of Mojo’s slobbery morning kisses. Voice still thick with sleep, she asked, “How’d you get in here?”

The smooth-coat Chihuahua just cocked his head to the side, giving another yip. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought you’d say,” she said with a sigh to the dog standing beside her on the bed. 

She climbed out of bed with dead limbs and fumbled to get her bearings straight. After she brushed her hair and washed her face, she hefted Mojo in her arms and walked towards Sam’s room. 

She could hear the alarm clock blaring consistently from behind the door. She could never understand how her cousin could sleep through such an annoying sound.

“Sam, wake up,” she yelled as she knocked on the door. The alarm clock kept going off. “Sam, come on! We’re going to be late, and you have to take Mojo outside. Sam!”

Maybe it was the combination of her pounding on the door and Mojo’s barking, but she heard Sam struggle from his bed, whipped into a frenzy at the lateness of the hour.

“Shit, shit, shit!” He kept repeating as Orion walked away; her job for the morning completed. 

Walking back to her room, she set Mojo down so he could scurry off to do whatever he wanted. She pulled out an old concert T-shirt that had a faded logo from all the years, and her favorite pair of jeans. She decided to be kind and saved Sam some hot water for his shower, and was able to brush her teeth and get dressed in under seven minutes.

_ You’ve made it through another week, kid _ , she thought to herself as she bounded down the stairs. She left her backpack by the door, prepared to grab it as she and Sam hauled ass out the door to catch the bus that always came exactly at 7:00. It was always a close call.

She could hear her aunt banging pots and pans together in the kitchen as she grabbed her jacket from the closet hallway. Mojo also started barking again, most likely wanting to be fed and let outside.

“Have you noticed anything funny about Mojo lately?” Her Aunt Judy asked when she entered the kitchen. Her Uncle Ron was sitting at the table, most likely running late for work but still taking his time. The house smelled of burnt pancakes and her aunt’s aromatherapy candles. Mojo hobbled to his bowl once it was filled to the brim with kibble.

“You mean aside from him trying to hump every leg he sees?” Uncle Ron said, mouth full of brown pancakes. It was just easier to eat what Aunt Judy made without her having a meltdown about being a terrible wife and mother.

“You’ve noticed?”

“Any leg. He’s sick.”

“Maybe the vet gave him LSD instead of pain medication,” Orion suggested.

“No, it’s not LSD,” Aunt Judy said. Her tone was a little too certain for Orion’s liking.

“He’s peeing everywhere, too. I thought I told Sam to train him.”

“You really thought Sam could train a dog?” Orion asked, a look of disbelief directed to her uncle. 

Uncle Ron scoffed. “Of course not.”

Aunt Judy ran a hot pan under cool water, creating a mass of steam. “That’s not nice. You know, Ron, you’re the reason why Sam’s self esteem is so low. You never encourage him. Remember when he tried out for the football team tenth grade year? You laughed and he failed. He failed, Ron, because you didn’t believe in him.”

“So the only reason he failed is because of me?” Uncle Ron shook his head. His tone was cynical. “That’s a load of bull.”

“I think it’s inspiring,” Orion said. “He still tries even though he knows he’ll look stupid.”

“You know, I read this article the other day,” Aunt Judy said, “about the psychology of strained father son relationships, and I think you should read it. You never share anything about yourself with Sam. You could be making him suffer with uncertainties about his masculinity.”

Orion choked and spluttered when the coffee she had been enjoying nearly killed her. She didn’t know how they went from talking about the dog’s medication to Sam’s embarrassing life moments, but she wasn’t complaining.

“Alright, alright! I get it,” Uncle Ron said.

“Yeah,” Orion said. “Mojo needs to go outside anyway.”

The Chihuahua was attempting to stand on its hind legs, but the cast was making it challenging. With his good paw, Mojo began to scratch at the glass with high pitched whimpers. 

When he had heard his name, he barked and wagged his tail more enthusiastically. 

Aunt Judy walked over to Mojo and bent down to stoke his head, then looked up at her husband accusingly. “I hope you remember this, the lack of concern over your own son’s feelings, when he turns this mentality against himself.”

Uncle Ron made a face, like the conversation was actually causing him physical discomfort. 

In the silence, Orion had a chance to take in the spectacle of her family. Uncle Ron, who was her paternal great-uncle, was just as odd as any other Witwicky before him. He was also one of the few Witwicky’s to name their child with an actual, real name and not something like Orion Sparkles. He also never went to college, same as every Witwicky before him. After splitting the proceeds from his late father's house with his five siblings, he was able to afford one of the nicer houses in the neighborhood, an Austin Healey BJ8, a 2008 Prevost H3-45. Aunt Judy had always been a social butterfly for as long as Orion could remember, but sometimes the woman could be too … outgoing. She was very protective of her dog and her garden. She was strict when it came to discipline, but was still understanding and supportive of the people in her life. Then there was Sam … what could she say about Sam? He never failed to provide some form of entertainment, that was for sure. 

When her aunt and uncle had taken her into their home after her mother’s insistence, she had been seven years old and was an introverted child with a bad temper. She hadn’t expected her placement to last, and had imagined that her mother would come back for her a month or so later only to find herself alone in whatever house they would’ve renting out at the time, and her mother to be elbow deep in grease and tinkering with cars instead of spending time with her daughter. 

Orion smiled. She felt more at home with her crazy extended family of three than she ever did with her mother. No matter her bad behavior, or how many times she had acted out, they kept her around and never once threatened to ship her back to her mother. 

Mojo came wandering back inside and over to Orion. She humored the dog and gave him a slice of bacon.

Aunt Judy looked at the clock on the stove. The digital readout changed from 6:29 to 6:30. “What is taking Sam so long?” She asked. “He’s going to be late for school.”

“I’m not driving him if he is,” Uncle Ron said. He mumbled something about responsibility.

“Well, how else is he going to get there if he misses the bus?” Aunt Judy asked. Orion supposed the question was rhetorical. “Walk? It’s too far.”

Uncle Ron frowned. “Yeah, well, if he still wants to buy a car today he better figure something out.”

“He also has to get an A on his genealogy report,” Orion reminded him.

“That too.”

“Sam!” Aunt Judy yelled as she sprang into motion, stopping at the landing of the stairs. “Sam! You better move it and get your keister down here in the next ten minutes, young man. Your father is going to be very angry if you’re late!”

Aunt Judy then turned around to walk out the front door to her garden, Mojo quickly following behind her. He was easily becoming her dog instead of Sam’s. And speaking of the devil, Sam came rushing forwards, tripping a little over the steps and called out for Orion. She came from the kitchen, holding a slice of bacon as an offering. Bacon always made everything better. 

They could hear the engine of the bus settling from the street as it came to a stop. That, and, Orion was sure the whole neighborhood heard Aunt Judy when she announced that the bus had arrived. Orion grabbed her backpack and ran out the door with Sam right on her heels. 

Aunt Judy stood in her garden, arms trying to trap Sam in a hug. “Don’t you worry about nothing today, Sammy. You’re going to do just fine. But if you don’t, I’ll see if I can butter your father up later tonight and get him to buy you a car.”

Sam gagged. Not wanting to be seen, Orion kept her head down and quickly found her usual seat. Sam soon flopped down next to her, looking frazzled as usual. The bus pulled away from the curb with a jerk.

“You did remember to grab your report, right?”

“Do I look like an idiot to you? Of course I remembered. What do you think took me so long?”

Deciding to leave Sam to his devices instead of picking with him, Orion chose to listen to her music for the rest of the ride.

She slipped into homeroom just as the day’s announcements were being read over the PA system that had seen better days. Mrs. Turner, the head of the English department, unfortunately decided to quiz them during the first period. She had completely forgotten to read  _ The Great Gatsby _ ; the book laid untouched on her desk for the past three weeks. So she flunked that. 

Reading was actually a hobby of hers, she read all the time. In fact, she loved it. Books were her only true companions when she had been a child. They introduced her to friends and worlds that she could take with her forever, even if it was only for a while. Fiction was her favorite type of literature, and she had a journal of all the story ideas she had created over the years. She had considered writing about her dreams, but a part of her just didn’t feel comfortable with the notion. If she was being honest with herself, it almost felt like they were something sacred—almost like they were a part of her. 

U.S. History wasn’t much better. She had been doomed to be reading partners with Miles Lancaster, Sam’s best friend. He was a weird person, even weirder than Sam, and that was saying something. She never liked Miles ever since their eighth grade graduation, when he had ratted her out to Aunt Judy for wearing Chuck Taylors under her dress and for purposely ruining her perfectly curled hair that had taken  _ hours  _ for her aunt to do. After the ceremony, Orion had punched him down three steps from the parking lot. That was pretty much how Miles developed a crush on her.

It was a never ending source of amusement for Sam, who kept teasing for them to get together. 

She survived history class, and her day only got worse from there. The first half of chemistry was fine, but while taking her second pop quiz of the day, Orion had one of the worst headaches she could ever remember. Pain would throb so violently around her skull that she wondered why it didn't just crack open. It felt like someone had taken a knife to her skull. She leant her head against the desk. Squeezing her eyes shut, she willed the pain to go away. The rest of the world became detached, all she could concentrate on was the pain rooted deep in her head. She could barely concentrate on the paper in front of her. All she felt—all she knew—was the pain of that moment.

Orion drifted into consciousness. And then back out. She tried to keep her eyes open, she really did. But it was so hard. The world was a blur, and random images seemed to float aimlessly around in the pool of her thoughts, as though they were being blown about viciously by a hurricane. A tap on her shoulder momentarily brought her back to the outside world, but after a second she was once again lost. She could feel somebody trying to look at her, staring dead in the eye, but she couldn't keep focus. The whole world simply felt low resolution, a bad quality movie. Confusion blossomed in her heart and she knew that sooner or later she would need to wake up. To stare reality in the face.

“As much as I would  _ love  _ to give you a couple more minutes to finish the quiz, Orion, I have a case of my favorite beer waiting for me at home….”

Orion’s head jolted upwards, letting her know she had dozed off. Her eyes grew wider than usual and took on a wild look as she scanned for signs of danger. For a few seconds she felt confused, unsure of where she was, then it all came back to her and she looked up to see the obese form of Mr. Abraham standing over her.

“And, correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think you’d like to spend your weekend here. I know I don’t.”

Orion blinked. It was as if every eyelash weighed more than it should and gravity had been turned up ten fold. She was blinded with flashing colorful spots and craved darkness, quiet and stillness.

“Your quiz, Orion,” Mr. Abraham demanded. 

She pulled herself together, but a crushing pain on one side of her head came and went in a pattern. Somehow she had managed to hand her quiz over, gather her belongings and stand up out of her seat. But she must’ve moved too fast because the room began to spin. She grabbed onto the desk just in case it wasn’t her imagination. 

“Are you feeling alright, Orion?” Her teacher asked as he hesitatingly reached out to help ground her. “You look a little pale.”

_ A little pale?  _ There was no way in hell she was just a little pale. She felt like her head had done a complete 360 spin, like that scene from The Exorcist. Her eyes should’ve been bloodshot, too. And just for extra measures, to make sure everyone knew how shitty she felt, she figured blood would also be pouring out from her nose and ears. 

But she just barely managed to mumble, “Migraine.”

“Be sure to take some Advil,” her teacher advised as he helped her to the door. “And get a cool cloth to put over your eyes. Sleep in a dark room, too. Maybe even drink a soda. That’s what helps me.”

“Thanks, Mr. Abraham,” Orion called out sarcastically. She stepped lightly in effort not to jostle her brain and to keep her skull from cracking open. 

The halls were crowded with people, and the chaos was so perfect, like a movie. There was the couple that was always making out on the left side of the hall, and about ten feet farther down, the cliquey girls. Opposite them, the cliquey jocks, and between them, the parade of band geeks with their huge instrument cases. There were the aerospace tech kids who never did anything but make paper airplanes and the fashion kids that wheeled mannequins and clothing racks down the halls. And then there was Orion, not that she fit into any of those groups.

Orion had no choice but to slip into the crowd. She had never been claustrophobic before, but in the almighty swell of humanity she felt the panic rise in her chest. When they moved she had to also, and if her feet failed to keep up she risked being trampled underfoot. She could smell them too, the people she meant—an unholy agglomeration of perfumes, body odour and over-applied cologne. 

She made a beeline for her locker where she would drop her books off, and then go to the nurses office to get something for her migraine before she got in the car with Uncle Ron and Sam. Those two would only make it worse.

Orion tried to give an occasional smile here and there as she manurved through the throngs of people, but just like them, she was only being polite. She knew people looked at her as the quiet, odd girl with a troubled past. Her mother had left her to be raised by family members while she was off doing her own thing, and she had never really known her father since the man had stopped coming around before she was three years old, so she supposed they weren’t necessarily wrong. She did little to change their opinions about her, though. Orion didn’t have any real friends (she figured Sam didn’t count), just familiar faces, and that didn’t bother her in the slightest. 

She reached her locker and almost cried when she had to dial the combination. 

She all but shoved her books into her locker with a little too much force, and felt the stares of people around her. Although she knew they were whispering, she couldn’t help but feel a bit paranoid.

“Oh, hold on,” someone from the right of her said, “my dad’s calling.”

Searing fiery bursts pulsated around her skull, intensifying with each ringing chirp of the phone’s automatic ringtone, jarring and brutal. It was accompanied by a mixture of hissing, buzzing, whistling, roaring sounds. She almost dropped the textbook in her hand to cover her ears in an attempt to stop the sudden assault, but she was able to pull herself together. She rested her head against the cool metal of the locker, praying for relief. She didn’t think the pain could last for long, or she at least hoped. The sounds grew more intense, and the noises engulfed her, completely capturing her brain, rendering any logical thought or conclusion impossible. She shivered violently in the humid hall. With each breath her stomach tightened and ached all the more. She kept swallowing, and her throat kept clenching, but no matter what she could not stop the warm feeling rising through her chest. Then she could taste it at the back of her mouth.

Her eyesight blurred, but not because tears were welling up. Everything became fuzzy; then she saw nothing at all. Her consciousness was floating through an empty space filled with a thick static. Throughout the inky space her heartbeats pounded loudly, echoing in her ears, alongside fading calls of her name.

Just as she felt her body being drained away until finally all was black—it was gone. 

Orion’s breath got caught in her throat. She stood perfectly still. She worried that if she moved the pain would come back tenfold.  _ What the hell was that?  _ She felt like a million bucks if she was being honest.

No pain, no skull splitting migraine, no noises blaring in her ears.  _ Maybe that was all part of being a Witwicky _ , she thought, positive that she had seen her uncle and Sam go through something that could classify them as crazy. 

As she slammed her locker, she realized that Sam was standing right next to her. 

“Can you hear me now? God, I’ve been trying to get your attention for three minutes. Let’s go, let’s go! I’m sure dad has some pain meds in the glove compartment. You will  _ not  _ be the reason I don’t get a car today.”

Orion had completely forgotten about that. “You got an A?”

He shoved his report paper in her face. “A-, but it’s still an A!”

“Can’t beat that logic.”

Orion turned away from her locker, considering if she should make a break for it and still see the nurse, but Sam grabbed her by the hand and hauled ass to where Uncle Ron was waiting for them. Thank God he drove Aunt Judy’s 2007 Lexus SC.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Sam chanted like a child high off a sugar rush. He jumped into the car while Orion did what any civilized person would do and opened the back door to crawl in to lay down against the leather seats. 

“So?” Uncle Ron asked, although he sounded slightly miffed. 

“It’s an A-, but it’s an A, though.”

“Wait, wait, wait. I can’t see.”

“It’s an A!” Sam insisted. 

Uncle Ron took the paper and sighed. “It’s an A.”

“So I’m good, right?”

When Uncle Ron didn’t say anything for a second, Orion piped up from the back seat. “You should’ve specified an A+ if that’s what you wanted.”

Her uncle turned around to say something about her cheek, but stopped short at the sight of her. “What the hell’s the matter with you?”

“Had a headache,” she muttered into the seat. 

“Do you wanna go home?”

Sam made a sound in the back of his throat. God, he was such a big baby.

“No,” she said as she stifled a yawn, sitting upright. She was suddenly tired, but she supposed after having an episode like that, anyone would be. “Can you drop me off at the shop, actually? I have a few things to finish up there.”

“What?” Sam’s head whipped around to stare at Orion. “You’d rather go into work early and work on some bike instead of seeing one of the greatest moments of my life?”

There was a moment where Orion’s face washed blank with confusion, like her brain cogs couldn’t turn fast enough to take in the information from her wide eyes. Every muscle in her body appeared to be frozen before a crooked grin crept onto her face. 

“You’re joking, right?” Soon the grin stretched from one side to the other, showing every single tooth. “Please tell me that you did not call a 1961 Triumph TR6 Trophy  _ some bike _ ?”

Sam instantly knew he made a mistake. While a few things have captured Orion’s passion, motorcycles and cars were her obsession, just like it was her parents’. She enjoyed a peculiar combination of several elements: danger, speed, singular focus, solitude, mechanics, noise, and physical skill. 

(Even though being a grease monkey ran in her blood, no one knew that the real reason Orion got so into mechanics was because of her dreams.)

“Marlon Brando rode a 1950 Triumph 6T Thunderbird,” Orion began to rant. Her uncle shot Sam a look, knowing that she wouldn’t shut up until she felt she had gotten her point across. “Bob Dylan had a 1964 Triumph Tiger 100 that he crashed, but he still rode it. In  _ Coogan’s Bluff  _ Eastwood chased an escaped criminal through Central Park on a Triumph Bonneville. Buddy Holly and the Crickets decided to spend some of their hard earned money on new motorcycles; Buddy chose an Ariel Cyclone, J.I. picked a Trophy, and Joe B. decided on a Thunderbird. James Dean bought a Triumph TR5 Trophy because he wanted to emulate Brando, and it was the last bike he rode before he died. The King of Cool himself raced the Triumph’s TR6 in everything from the Baja 1000 to the prestigious International Six Days Trial! The TR6 also makes an appearance in  _ The Great Escape _ .”

Midst her rant, Sam mouthed, “the King of Cool?” to his father, and the older Witwicky looked at him with complete disbelief written on his face.

The car cruised down the freeway, traveling south, as the two cousins began to bicker. Sam felt like she was ruining his moment, Orion wondered how he didn’t know who the King of Cool was, and Uncle Ron had threatened to drive them home, or off the road, more than once. They called his bluff. Not only was he driving Aunt Judy’s car, but they also threatened to tell the woman that he was going back on his word to Sam and debating to commit what would hold up in court as second degree murder. 

“I’ve got a little surprise for you, son,” Uncle Ron announced as Orion gazed straight ahead as they passed through a Porsche car lot. She watched the shock register on Sam’s face.

“No, no, no, no—dad! You’ve got to be kidding me!”

In his cruel triumph, Uncle Ron smirked. “Yeah, I am. You’re not getting a Porsche.”

Sam’s face fell faster than a loaf removed from the oven too soon. His bottom lip jutted out into a pout as if he was holding back tears. “You think that’s funny?”

“Yeah, I think it’s funny.”

Orion leaned back in her seat and laughed uproariously. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Sam asked, heated and embarrassed. 

“You really thought I’d buy you a Porsche for your first car?” 

Orion dissolved into another puddle of laughter. “Real smart, Uncle Ron, considering that he'll eventually get power of attorney someday.” She could feel her stomach shaking as she fought a new gale of giggles. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam sulked. “Laugh it up.”

And that’s exactly what they did as Orion got dropped off at work. She ruffled Sam’s hair as she got out of the car. “Have fun at Bolivia's Finest Quality Used Cars and Petting Zoo,” she teased. 

As they drove off, she couldn’t hold back the burst of her loud, harsh cackle of laughter as Sam gave her the finger.

* * *

  
In the back of Mike’s Custom Cycle, where Orion worked after school, a bulldog named Bonecrusher, who loved everything except cats, lazily watched as Orion smiled at the growl of the engine on the motorcycle that would soon be hers once she got it properly up and running. 

“Listen to that purr,” Orion shouted to the dog.

The dog gave a low bark in response and wagged his tail, before he dropped his head and went back to basking in the dying sun. 

Orion glanced at the clock on the wall. It was just a few minutes away from 8:00, and she was exhausted. She was hoping that Max, the son of the owner, would wrap up with the last customer of the day so he could drop Orion off at home, and give her enough time to eat dinner and get some homework done before she went to bed. 

Orion yawned and Bonecrusher yawned wider. 

“That’s what I say,” she muttered to herself, looking up at the streetlights. “Let’s go see if Max is ready.”

The dog followed her back into the shop, padding beside her as her mind drifted back to what happened earlier today. She was still uneasy about the mild breakdown, or whatever she had experienced.

Maybe she should’ve gone to the nurse. Better yet, the hospital. 

Bonecrusher jogged ahead of her when Max came into view. He was locking the front door. 

“So,” Orion asked him, arms crossed over her chest, “you ready to go?”

Max scratched Bonecrusher behind his ears and rubbed his belly. The dog was heaven as Max gave him his full attention. 

“Well?” She asked again.

“Yeah, yeah,” Max said. “Give me a minute to see if Cal can come in tonight to do the emergency service. Wilson’s been constipated since he had to get that procedure done.”

Orion rolled her eyes as she went around the corner of the reception desk. “Great. Cal’s going to take forever to get here.” She opened the cash register and began counting their earnings for the day. “I’ll put my foot up his ass if he isn’t here by nine.”

Max barely repressed his smirk as he listened to Orion, always amused by her antics. Although he was roughly ten years older than her, Max was as close to a friend that Orion had. 

Lost in thought again about what happened in school, Orion tried to come up with a reasonable explanation. Maybe it was something hormonal; she was a week away from getting her cycle if her calculations were correct, which they usually were. Normally she would suffer the whole week with migraines, but never anything so extreme that she felt as if she was going to pass out.

“Earth to Spark,” she heard Max say. He had taken to calling her by that god-awful nickname when he had learned her middle name was literally Sparkles. She eventually grew used to it, but it wasn’t like she had a choice in the matter. “If you can hear me in La La Land, Cal said he should be here before nine. You ok with sticking around until he shows up?”

Orion nodded her head. “Yeah. Sorry. It’s just been a weird and long day.”

“It’s cool. We all have our days.” He smiled at her, tugging at a strand of her dark hair that had fallen out of her sloppy bun and in her face. “Bad day at school?”

The two had a platonic relationship with an obvious sibling-like bond and got along very quickly. Max always said that she was like the little sister he never knew he had wanted. They shared a lot of things, especially Max’s high school days that had been the worst four years of his life, or so he said. Teen angst was the bane of both their existence. 

“Yeah, but at least we have air conditioning now, unlike back in your day,” she teased with a genuine smile that he returned with a hearty laugh. “I’m gonna go lock up the garage and put my bike away for tomorrow.”

She pushed herself away from the counter, Bonecrusher watching her as if debating to follow her, and walked towards the back of the shop. 

“Hey, Spark,” Max called after her.

She paused and looked back at him. “What’s up?”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, and she refused to squirm as his eyes raked over her frame from head to toe. “Do you wanna talk about anything? Seems like it’s more than a bad day.”

The idea of sharing the bizarre experience of her day was almost frightening, knowing that others would probably consider her crazy. 

“I’m alright,” she settled on saying. “The migraine just took a lot out of me.”

She made haste to the garage and walked the motorcycle back to the side so it was safely tucked away. Although the space wasn’t as large and wide as they would’ve liked, they made do with what they had and enjoyed the close proximity from time to time. Mike, the owner of the shop, classified himself as stuck. He had dreams once he would recall, when he was around Orion’s age, that he would leave South Gate and go somewhere far away, like Texas. He had always wanted to open a shop in Texas. But he never had the courage to do it, especially once Max had been born. And the old man feared that Max would be stuck, too, so he gave his advice to Orion instead. 

“It’s in your name to be somewhere away from all this bullshit,” he would affectionately say to her. “Orion—it’s prominent and recognizable, and can be seen throughout the world. You were meant to touch the stars, kiddo.” There was never any doubt in his mind.

The strong familial bonds were probably what kept the place up and running.

A sudden bout of tiredness hit her like a freight train, making it feel like she was moving in slow motion. She slung her backpack over her shoulder and made her way back to the front. She glanced at the clock and noted that it was a quarter to nine. If Cal actually made it on time for his shift, she’d be able to eat dinner at decent time and do the bare minimum of her homework. She would go to bed immediately after that. The sweet, sweet seduction of sleep had been calling her name all day and she was all the more ready to give in.

The flashing image of haunting, mechanical red eyes in her mind startled her. Maybe she wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight. 

She reached the front of the shop and as she rounded the reception desk to grab her jacket, she noticed that Cal was nowhere in sight. But Max was on the phone and looked at her. From the expression on his face she had absolutely no doubt that he was annoyed.

“It’s Cal,” he said, not bothering to cover the mouth. “It’s his weekend with his kid. He was supposed to call earlier, but forgot.”

Orion bit her tongue for a moment before she sighed. She knew now that she wouldn’t be getting home at a reasonable time. 

“I’m sorry,” she could hear Cal begin from over the phone. “I was getting everything together for her and lost track of time…”

Orion stopped listening to his excuses and sat her bag down on the ground. She got comfortable in the chair as Max finished the call.

“You get out of here,” she told him. “I can at least stay until eleven.”

“No way,” Max said. Orin knew he couldn’t stay because he had kids, too, and with Wilson out of commission that only left her at the moment. “I’m not letting you stay here by yourself at night with random strangers. You’re out of your god....”

Orion shook her head. “I’ll tell people we can’t tonight, we’re short staffed. I’ll just schedule appointments and shit.”

He stared, thinking it over.

“Get out of here,” she told him again. “It’s not that far to walk home either. I’ll be fine.”

Max didn’t look happy, but he knew that Orion was stubborn as a bull. “Fine. But you better call me as soon as you get home. Ya hear me, Spark? Not a single second later.”

Orion waved her hand about. “You owe me!” She shouted after him as he went out the door. 

“Well,” Orion sighed as she got as comfortable as she could. She reached down to run her fingers through Bonecrusher’s fur. “It’s just you and me now, boy.”

Then all hell broke loose.

Pain seared through her head better than a bullet, her mind conceding to the torment, unable to bring a single thought to completion. Without meaning to, her body curled into something fetal, something primeval and all the while the pain continued to burn and radiate. 

Bonecrusher began to go wild, barking crazily, backing up from Orion was like she was a stranger. He growled furiously. The barking never stopped, in fact, it intensified, but she could no longer hear the dog. 

Tucked away in the corner, collecting dust, was an old, busted radio. It was older than Orion and hadn’t worked in years, but it suddenly made a whistling sound—shrill, loud, and high-pitched—sharp like a needle point or a knife in her ears, burning around her skull better than a pot of boiling water. The pain only increased in waves, small lulls giving false hope of an end. Each peak robbed her of the ability to speak, keeping her constricted on the ground. It was as though her blood had become acid, intent on destroying her from the inside out. All she could do was wither, the occasional whimper escaping to echo off the walls. 

The voice coming from the radio was unexpected. 

_ “I am ....mus Prime, and I send this mess—mess—mess ….age to ….rviving Autobots taking refuge among the st—st ....tars.” _

It was low, with an agreeable trace of huskiness and with a hint of more power than the radio frequency would suggest. It was the only soothing thing in the course of her pain, almost familiar. 

Yet her mind screamed out in agony once again. She didn’t register the tears staining her face. An imaginary stake was being hammered into her head, the strikes radiating pain in a way that shattered her brain, or at least that’s what it felt like. 

_ “We draw near to an ....known—known—known—un …. planet called Earth.” _

She could feel the sweat drenching her skin, the throbbing of her own eyes, the ringing of her own screams vibrating in her ears, and the thumping of her heart against her chest. Her fingers were curled into a fist, nails digging into her palm. She couldn’t hear her rapid breathing, but she can feel the oxygen flooding in and out of her lungs. 

Hesitantly, she spoke.  _ “Please,”  _ she begged, the strange words feeling incredibly odd, yet natural as they rolled off her tongue.  _ “I don’t understand ....you’re hurting me!” _

The room went completely silent.

The pain ceased to exist. 

Slowly Orion tried to get up, but quickly realized how futile it was when she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. Sharp pain still lanced through her head and colorful spots flashed in front of her eyes; it felt like her whole body had been beaten and every movement caused some muscle or bone to ache. Regardless, she needed to get out of there ....away from whatever the fuck just happened.

Wincing in pain, she started to grab the corners of desks and the cracks in the tile to help her pull herself up. She was careful not to startle Bonecrusher, but he was suddenly calm.

She just happened to look over at the radio, and she saw that it was still broken. A sudden panic gripped her. She had to get away. She had to get away from the possessed radio, from that voice. She had to get away as fast as she could. 

Orion turned the lock on the door and stepped outside. She jammed the key in lock and bolted down the sidewalk until she made it to her neighborhood. 

It wasn’t even eleven by the time she finally saw her house. Orion quietly closed the front door behind her as she toed her shoes off. 

She stood in the hallway as she peeled off her jacket, wallowing in the quietness. The panic started with a tightening of her chest, as if the muscles were trying not to let another breath in, but instead to die. Then her breaths came out shallow, lungs unable to move much against the suddenly heavy ribs. Her mind became like static, thoughts making no sense, replays of nightmares once forgotten. Before she knew it she was sitting on the floor, limbs unwilling to work at all.

Her remaining thread of strength frayed before breaking completely, sending her plummeting over the edge. Hysterical sobs shook her thin frame, threatening to tear her apart from the inside. She fought to reclaim control over her body, shocked by the sounds escaping from deep within her chest.

Often her aunt would call her strong. Sometimes, she liked to think that she was. But during moments like tonight, when her feelings overwhelmed her, the word "strong" became insignificant, to the varying waves of emotion that engulfed her. Sitting there, she got lost in the tide and she caved, swept away by her own fears.

She was only human.

But Orion eventually got up to stand on shaking legs, feeling uneasy. She trudged slowly to the kitchen. She was disappointed that Mojo wasn’t around to keep her company, but she figured the little rat was sleeping comfortably in his doghouse. 

The light was on over the stove and a piece of note paper with her name scribbled on was pinned to the refrigerator with a magnet. The note from her aunt said that everyone had gone to bed, and that her dinner was in the microwave. The note also mentioned that Sam’s new car was a piece of crap, and she would be an angel if she took a look at it. That made her smile. 

She pressed the automatic button and listened to the microwave hum for three minutes. She proceeded to the living room, turning on the television and kept it on low. She finished the dinner of meatloaf, mashed potatoes and green beans, and washed off her plate instead of leaving it in the sink. She was stalling, trying to figure out what she wanted to do next. Her body obviously just wanted to sleep, but her mind was arguing that it would be better for her sanity if she stayed awake for a little longer.

Her mind ended up winning the battle. She decided to take Aunt Judy up on her offer and went out to the garage. The battered 1970s Camaro wasn’t what she was expecting. There was no way that Sam got the vehicle for only four thousand dollars, especially from that second rate car dealership. 

She circled the car, examining the dilapidated and rusting exterior, and the bald tires. It looked like the engine would die before it even made it out of the driveway. While it wasn’t necessarily a rust-bucket, it had obviously been developing in someone’s backyard, probably since the 80s. 

Opening the door to take a look inside, she half expected to see a family of possibly lethal spiders or rodents gnawing at what she thought would be rusted upholstery, but was actually surprised. She doubted Sam would actually take the time to wash the car so she was happy to see that the interior was in good shape. She noted that the front seats were both fully adjustable as she got in it. The paint job, which had clearly seen better days in its prime, would probably be the easiest fix overall. 

Something silver reflected in her eyes when she turned around to glance at the backseats. Looking forward again, but this time at the steering wheel, Orion examined the odd looking face of what could’ve been a robot that was situated right in the middle of where the horn should’ve been. It was likely a custom design, but it was more than that. 

She recognized the design, and within seconds she could see it in her mind, as clearly as if she was dreaming again. Only this time, she was wide awake. 

As she stared at the mechanized face looking back at her, the memories of it started to blur. The harder she focused, the more it became the center of her attention. The rest of the world disappeared around her. Slowly, she reached out a hand and dragged one fingertip over it gingerly. 

Then a flash, and it was like she was stuck in the dreamscape again.

She was fighting.

She was dying.

She pulled her hand back, recoiling like she had been burned. 

“Where the hell did you come from?” She asked, mumbling to herself.

It was no surprise that the crickets were singing their lullaby in the distance.

What was a surprise was when the car’s stereo clicked on, answering her question.

_ “Space: the final frontier,”  _ the sound system declared very clearly and precisely in the voice of Captain Kirk.

The way Orion’s eyes had widened would’ve been comical if it wasn’t for the evident fear laced in them as she gaped at the radio. 

It was official—she was losing her mind. 


	2. Chapter 2

There was the feeling of falling.

A drop she knew she couldn’t prevent. 

Where was she going? There was nothing in front of her and nothing behind—nor above or below. Only the darkness, pressing in, guiding her to a space unknown.

_ “Orion!” _

Someone was calling out to her, trying to reach her before she went under—before she disappeared.

_ “Come back!” _

It was too late.

She couldn’t see or sense anyone else. She had never been so alone before. She felt like the last living being in all of the universe.

She tried to hold on, to remember— _ Oppi ….the AllSpark ….Carrier ….the war _ —but she was losing herself. 

She continued her descent, tumbling deeper through the thickness of the dark. 

She could no longer remember how she had ended up there, in the middle of nowhere of an endless black hole. 

She was plummeting through nothingness.

For how long?

To where?

* * *

  
Orion sat up with a jerk, the noises of the day in full swing. 

“Orion! Wake up! Oh dear Lord, Sam’s been arrested!” She could hear her aunt’s distinct voice from downstairs. 

Sight still in the clutches of the night's hue, she hesitantly rubbed the dreams away. Thoughts of the visions in sleep came and went in waves, clinging on to the very last memory of the night but with little success.

She fell back down on her bed, burrowing herself deeper into the warm, soft sheets. She was safe, in her room. She stroked at the softness of the sheets to ground herself, gazing at the morning light that trickled down in through the blinds. Laying there, she debated whether or not to get up. Her muscles felt weak, just like her energy. She let out an exasperated sigh, groaning as she turned over on her side. 

How long had she been asleep?

What time was it?

What did Sam do?

All of those questions were at the forefront of her mind as she let out a loud yawn, having no choice but to start her day.

Orion sat up, dragged her feet off the bed, and rubbed her knuckles over her eyes. She stretched her arms above her head and yawned again. She watched her legs dangle above the mahogany floor.

What was wrong with her?

Her head was still throbbing. Last night’s dream was one of the ones that she couldn’t remember, and she knew no matter how hard she tried, it would just continue to recede until there was nothing left of it. She did remember the sensation of falling, that much was clear. Maybe she was losing it.

Orion walked leisurely to the shower, stripping down and stepping slowly into the tub, turning the water on high and letting it beat over her head in steamy rivulets. The sensation of the steamy water calmed her; it took her mind off things. She was engrossed with the water cascading down her body and massaging muscles long past cramped. 

Her hand eventually fell on the lever and the water stopped, the cool air making goosebumps spread across her skin in rapid succession. She quickly patted herself dry and wrapped the towel as best as she could around herself. 

She took her hand to wipe away the fog that stuck to the mirror and gazed at her reflection. Her skin took on a pale look, as if she'd been painted with white-wash, even her lips were barely there. Her ashen complexion made her hair—which was tumbled like a beached kelp after a storm, ruffled, and certainly not in a way you'd see on the cover of any magazine—appear to be much darker than it actually was. She took the time to brush the wild locks into submission, figuring she’d feel slightly better if she dolled up her appearance a little bit. She had cut her hair last summer, but it was growing back out. The dark strands that always danced between brown and black cascaded down her back. Around her face it was cut a little shorter, feathered to accentuate her elfin features.

She leaned forward, asserting the bags under her electric blue eyes.

(Which were natural and not the result of a birth defect, the ophthalmologist said so.)

Then it all came rushing back:

Galvanic red eyes and razor sharp claws. Rusting metal and the source of a putrid smell. Blackness that came with such completeness it obliterated the memory of the day. With thick clouds above, no relief would come from either the moon or stars.

She didn’t mention anything about what happened to her yesterday. Maybe she should ask her aunt for her therapist’s phone number. 

She came downstairs to the same familiarness as she did everyday, despite it only being Aunt Judy and Mojo. The table had four plates already set out, stacked high with eggs, bacon, ham, and piles of fried potatoes. There was even a basket of freshly baked cinnamon buns drizzled in melted frosting. The platter would be enough to keep her family going for a week. Then she realized everywhere she looked there were stacks of food. 

Aunt Judy was stress cooking again.

Normally Orion would be worried, the last time Aunt Judy excessively cooked she had almost burned down the kitchen, but she was strangely hungry. Starving, actually; like she hadn’t eaten in days. 

“Oh, Orion!” Aunt Judy’s voice came from the corner leading into the kitchen. She came carrying yet another plate full of food, looking frazzled. “It’s terrible! Someone stole Sam’s car in the middle of the night, he tried to chase them, and the cops arrested him instead! I should go down there and give them a piece of my mind, but Ron went to handle it. God only knows how that’s going. I just can’t believe it. Four thousand dollars and Sam’s ego boost gone down the drain—”

“Can I have some coffee, please?” Orion asked, cutting her aunt off mid-rant. She gave her best smile. 

Shoving an egg and two pieces of bacon in her mouth made her feel better already. Aunt Judy placed a round mug of freshly brewed coffee in front of her. 

The older woman grinned as she watched Orion enjoy her breakfast. “You look nice today.”

Orion didn’t think so. She was wearing her favorite jeans, which weren’t exactly the cleanest, and a black T-shirt with some random logo printed in the upper left corner. A yellow hoodie was tied around her waist, and her feet were covered in fuzzy socks despite the lingering summer heat of the morning. Minus the little bit of makeup she applied, she looked the same as she did every other day. 

“Your eyes are so bright today. They’re practically glowing. The windows to the soul indeed,” Aunt Judy said. “Ya know, you’re always “bright-eyed”, even when you’re sad.”

Orion rolled her eyes. Aunt Judy had her own way of looking at things, she always had. There was an odd fascination with Orion’s eyes, but the girl supposed it was to be expected. She had never met anyone else with her eye coloring, not even close. Yet when her aunt got psychological and spiritual all at the same time she usually started to venture into superstitious territory, and Orion would just let her talk. 

She shoved more slices of bacon into her mouth, eggs, ham and fried potatoes soon following one after the other. She paused to drink some of her coffee before taking a chunk out of the cinnamon bun. As she licked the frosting off her fingers, she glanced at the calendar out of habit. The home phone would be ringing in a few hours, her mother on the other line. Her mom worked as a Wheeled Vehicle Mechanic in the military. She had never been deployed, and may never be; it was just based on the need of the missions overseas. They used to talk at least four times out of the week, but then she married Guillermo "Memo" Gutierrez without even telling Orion and things silently changed between them. She focused more on her marriage than her own child; that’s what Aunt Judy had said after the newlyweds had made an unexpected, unannounced, uncomfortable visit last spring. Orion had been happy that her mother found love, and she did like Memo—he was a good guy who saw Orion as his own kid and understood that there were boundaries because, at the end of the day, she biologically wasn’t his—but she wished her mother actually  _ communicated  _ with her. Their relationship was already on the rocks prior, and it wasn’t like her father was in the picture for her to talk to about these things. And it would be a cold day in hell before she confided in her aunt about her feelings. She loved the woman, but she was just too crazy for that sort of conversation. 

She heard a honk from the street. Uncle Ron and Sam were back. Since the window was open she heard them before they even unlocked the front door. Sam came in first, a little dirty and a little sweaty, but that surprisingly wasn’t anything new. He paused, stunned by the amount of food in front of him and looked at Orion, who was sitting by her lonesome with her mouth still full. 

“‘Sup, convict.”

Sam bristled at the nickname. It was apparently too soon to be making jokes Orion noted. 

“What the hell is all this?”

“Your celebratory welcome home party.” Orion extended a cinnamon bun. 

Sam took the treat from her. He looked like he needed all the sugar he could get at the moment. 

Aunt Judy scrambled out from the kitchen, dashed around the table, and flung herself into Sam’s arms. “Your father told me it was going to be ok, but I’m your mother and I was still so worried that they would keep you longer or worse—throw you in jail! Do you know how terrifying the past few hours have been for me? And don’t you worry about your car. We’ll find the asshole, or your father will just have to buy—”

“Okay, okay,” Uncle Ron growled as he joined them in the dining room. He pulled Sam away. “Let the kid breathe, would ya? I didn’t wake up at four in the morning to get him from the police station just for you to suffocate him to death.”

“How did you get arrested?” Orion asked. 

“The cop was an overzealous, slightly unhinged asshole,” Sam started. Orion didn’t mention that Sam was an overzealous, slight unhinged teenager so their personalities probably didn’t mesh well, and let her cousin continue. “He called me 50 Cent, and thought I was a junkie.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Aunt Judy said breathlessly.

“He also thought Mojo’s medicine was a new pill on the streets.” Uncle Ron stole a piece of bacon off of Orion’s plate. “I’m gonna go take a nap. You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Sam winced, rubbing his forehead in circular motions, and Orion spotted a knot forming.

“Good. Just rest up for right now.” Uncle Ron took one last piece of bacon before he went upstairs.

“If you need anything just scream. I mean it,” Aunt Judy said as she followed behind her husband. She was halfway up the stairs when she turned to call back, “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get your father comfortable, and then I’ll make your favorite blueberry and chocolate chip waffles.”

Sam gave his mother the thumbs-up and sat down in the chair across from Orion.

“Okay, spill,” she whispered. “What else happened?”

While she knew that there were some cops who were simply assholes, she felt like there was more to the story. Sam was acting too calm, almost like he was getting over being shell shocked. 

“I don’t even know where to start,” Sam said. 

“What happened before you got arrested?”

Orion waited for Sam to gather his thoughts; then he leaned forward until he was basically perched on the table and looked her in the eyes. Uncertainty clouded his. Also fear.

“The car is alive,” Sam said, lowering his voice. “I followed it to an abandoned junkyard, and I watched it—I don’t know—transform? It looked like a giant robot. Like, uh ….like that TV show we used to watch when we were kids! What was it called?”

“Gundam,” Orion said quickly, remembering sitting on the living room floor with Sam by her side like it was yesterday.

“Exactly! And—and it was a huge, yellow robot,” Sam said. “It was pointing a light up at the sky. Like a symbol or something.”

Orion narrowed her eyes. “Like the Bat-Signal?”

Sam nodded his head. There was a pause, followed by his own eyes narrowing with suspicion. “You believe me?”

Of course she did. What happened last night with the Camero wasn’t because of faulty wiring; the damned thing had actually answered her rhetorical question. There was nothing natural about that by a long shot, and truth be told, Sam wasn’t that creative to come up with something like his personal experience on his own.

“Something happened last night,” Orion finally admitted. “The radio turned on by itself, but it was the timing that freaked me out. I noticed the custom design on the steering wheel and asked where it came from out loud. That’s when the radio just turned on and quoted something from Star Trek. I think ….I think it told me it’s from space.”

Sam’s shoulders tensed. “Space? Like—like—like  _ outer space _ ? That space?”

“I don’t know, but what else could it mean?” She responded. 

Sam didn’t speak to anyone for the rest of the morning, and it seemed he was intent on not speaking for the rest of the afternoon as the hours moved by steadily as he kept himself holed up in his room. But that didn’t stop Orion from worrying, or peeking through the windows to make sure the Camero didn’t magically reappear. It wasn’t just the possessed car that was bothering her. It wasn’t even her dreams, which were bothering her more and more when she would wake up, even though she should’ve been used to them after all these years. It wasn’t about electronics suddenly talking to her—usually something like that would have her locked away in the nearest mental institution, more than likely in a straight jacket, loopy off of the drugs and endless therapy sessions. It wasn’t that she understood a language she had never heard before, or the fact that she was able to speak it perfectly. That was all obviously crazy.

It was that she was in denial, that she didn’t _ feel  _ like Orion Sparkles Witwicky-Watson. She felt like there was someone else inside her, someone who she used to be, and they were trying to crawl out from the deepest, darkest crevasses of her mind and weren’t going to be gentle about it until they came forward. Even if she was desperately trying to repress and ignore it. 

* * *

It was a little after five, the sun settling over the horizon, and Orion was laying in bed as the TV provided background noise. Sam was still hanging out by his lonesome in his room, and Orion was more than happy to not bother him. Max had called her a while ago—pissed and concerned that she hadn’t called him last night like she had promised—to see if she wanted to hang out with the rest of guys at some all ages, hole in the wall bar. While she would usually jump at any opportunity to get out of the house, she declined. 

Her mother still hadn’t called, but Orion wasn’t holding her breath. 

Other moms actually called at any given chance to talk to their kid if they couldn’t be around. Hers left her wondering all day if she would call and then would act like she didn’t do anything wrong when they were able to speak. 

She left her room to dig through the fridge, settling on a bowl of cereal. She wolfed it down like she expected someone to take it right out from under her nose. Knowing where her aunt kept her “secret” stash of alcohol, Orion poured herself a Coke and spiked it with a little bit of vodka before she wandered back to her room like some hobbit. The fairy-lights she had strung around the room set a laid back mood as she got comfortable on the bed. As asinine as it was, she had had a hard time making the room hers when she had moved in years ago. Before, all she had were blank, white walls and floor lamps that gave off that annoying low, orange light that was a bitch to have on when a headache struck. 

The worst part of all that was since her mother was gone for most of the day, the houses would be creepy to be in all alone by the time dusk rolled around. Night time was downright frightening. 

She pulled the quilt her dad had given to her around her body, taking a trip down memory lane to when she had been four years old, building a blanket fort with him and laughing as they had fun. 

Life had been different when they lived in the crappy apartment complex. Not even in kindergarten yet, it had just been the three of them—struggling to make ends meet, living paycheck to paycheck, but happy; or so Orion had thought in the usual naïveté that all kids had. It was funny how she could now look back at that time, remembering that her unit had never really been quiet. Her mom was always tinkering with something—taking it part, putting it back together, dropping screws all over the place and forgetting to pick them up. Her dad was always stressed when rent was due, and that always led to the biggest fights they would have. Orion eventually made a game of it, locking herself in the bathroom, huddled in the tub with her hands pressed over her ears to block out their shouting. There she would imagine herself somewhere else, somewhere far, far away in one of her fantasy books off on a great adventure. Anywhere was better than being left with her parents as they argued about their money situation.

Then they split because they never were married, which was the smartest thing they ever agreed upon not doing. Custody of Orion had been fairly simple: She would primarily live with her mom, but she wouldn’t be denied seeing her dad or anyone who was from her parental side of the family. The last bit hadn’t been necessary since she had only seen those people for a couple of hours on Easter, Thanksgiving and Christmas.

She wondered how her dad was and took another sip of her mixed drink. When she thought of him, she thought of when he disappeared. He just left them one day, never giving her an explanation. The next time she had seen him was three years later, a month before her seventh birthday and before her mom had made the decision to move her in with her aunt and uncle; that had been an odd Christmas for sure. He had moved back to Kimball, Oregon where he had been born and raised. In the course of moving back to his hometown, he met Carly—an impetuous prodigy and MIT graduate who had a gift for chemistry and electronics. Although Orion had only met the woman once, anyone could tell that Carly was older and much smarter than the somewhat dim Spike Witwicky. They married not long after they had moved in together, and then came Daniel Witwicky, her half-brother who had turned ten this year if her memory served her right. She honestly didn’t know anything about her younger brother, only recalling Grandma Witwicky complaining that the boy got in as much trouble as his father when he had been younger during the last Christmas she had spent with them. That was about three years ago. 

That meant her grandfather, Daniel “Sparkplug” Witwicky, had been dead for three years now. The man had been many things, but first and foremost he had been a family man, especially when it came to his children and grandchildren. The man had had a soft spot in his heart for Orion since she had been his first grandchild. She remembered his gruff and no-nonsense attitude, but he had loved his family dearly—a sentiment very much reciprocated. He had a down-to-earth approach with everything he did, and just like her parents, step-mother and herself, her grandfather had been very mechanically inclined and had owned S. Witwicky Auto Repairs & Tow Service back in the day in Portland, Oregon. In his will, he left the shop to Orion and in two years she would be an owner of her own mechanic shop—a dream of hers ever since she was a toddler. 

Orion rolled off her bed and shuffled into the hall. She still had the quilt wrapped around her. She made her way down the hall to Sam’s bedroom, deciding to check on him.

The door was opened and the blinds were closed. She peered in. The bed was messy, obviously slept in. Sam couldn’t have been up for long.

She found him in the kitchen. Dirty dishes from the morning piled in the sink, and Sam bruised himself as he poured a bowl of cereal. She shuffled past him to put her bowl in the sink, but he barely acknowledged her. The phone was nestled between his ear and shoulder, talking to Miles. 

Orion got a jar of mayonnaise from the fridge and took out a butter knife to make herself a sandwich.

“Hey, Sammy,” she said, grabbing his attention. “Pass me the salt and pepper.” She glanced out the window, then quietly said, “Have you heard anything yet?”

Sam shook his head in a negative way. “Aren’t you going out tonight?”

“I’m just not feeling up to it.” She waved the butter knife around. “A lot of shit’s been going on.”

Sam decided not to comment on that. He went back to his conversation with Miles. 

Orion ate her poorly made sandwich quietly, asserting the kitchen in all of it’s messiness. She would clean it up later, and just to keep herself busy she would do the living room afterwards. She occasionally would glance outside to look at the driveway, wondering if the car would actually come back.

From where she stood, she had a perfect view of the sun dipping behind the crest of the clouds, sky awash and ablaze with colors found at the heart of a fire, colors she liked to imagine a dragon in a fairytale felt churning in its belly and found tearing from its maw with every burst of flame. The brilliant hot oranges and reds poured into the clouds like a pot of molten lava. Never before had she realised how tenuous and thin the tranquil clouds were. Wispy and frail, like they only just existed.

She had ventured into the laundry room and started to fold the third load of clothes as they came out. Once Sam vacated the kitchen she tidied the space up. She was organizing the boxes full of family photos, choosing which ones she wanted to pin up on the memory board in her room. She’d already gone through some of her baby pictures and tucked those safely away. Aunt Judy was sentimental—she loved every baby picture she could find of her and Sam. Orion plucked one such photo out of the pile, smiling at the still image of her first birthday. Despite it having been December, the whole family was outside. She was in a booster seat, baby face red from crying, and her mother and both sets of grandmothers laughed. Baby Sam was cradled in Aunt Judy’s arms, also crying. In front of them, the reason for their distress, was Orion’s father dressed in a Barney the Dinosaur costume. That had been her favorite show as a child, but her family had learned it would be best to keep the big, purple dinosaur restricted to the television only. 

She wished she could remember those times without pictures.

Her stomach twisted and she felt weird again, like her head was full of a wasps nest. She drank two cups of coffee, hoping that the caffeine would help ward off what she suspected to be an oncoming headache. But of course, the roaring tornado between her ears persisted. 

Dismal rays of light came through the window; the blinds were still up. Orion could see a stretch of their perfectly manicured front yard and the clogged street. Cars filled whatever parking space they could as they dilly-dallied down the street to their driveways. 

None of them was Sam’s possessed Camero. She checked every time she heard the grumble of a straining engine. They all curised on past to their houses, ignoring the house filled to the brim with some sort of tension. 

She was on her knees putting the last pile of pictures in the box when she heard something firing like pistons coming closer. 

_ No fucking way. _

(Something hitting the floor in the kitchen registered in the back of her mind.)

Her skin chilled, goosebumps spreading quickly on her arms and made the hairs stand on end. Orion’s head jerked up, making her hair fly into her face. 

_ Why the fuck would it come back?  _ She could see the car smoothly pulling up to the driveway, coming to a stop and doing absolutely nothing. She wasn’t sure if that was a good sign. 

The goosebumps didn’t go away, especially since Sam started yelling for her. “Orion!” He squawked from the kitchen. “It’s Satan’s Camero! In the yard, it’s back! Holy shit, I think it’s stalking us!”

Like little pins and needles drumming hard against her flesh. Her mouth has gone dry and her limbs became numb, heavy. Then she got the scent of floral notes, yet more pronounced was the tincture of gasoline, and Orion knew something bad was about to happen. Aunt Judy called it premonition; Orion was inclined to agree with her. Like how she could smell rain before the storm came, or just knew what was wrong with anything mechanical, Aunt Judy always said Orion had a touch of something that made her able to see through the smog of reality in a way others couldn’t. 

With Orion it was always gasoline, with floral undertones. Not actual gasoline, either. She could never explain it—it never smelt like a plastic shrink-wrapped forest burned with gasoline, though. 

_ Shit. Oh, shit. _

Orion got up, legs suddenly going stiff and shaking like a newborn giraffe. She would have stood there forever, staring in shaking terror at the thing that should have been her cousin’s Camero as it settled itself in the driveway—if it hasn’t been for the phone. It rang shrilly under the sound of the car’s engine revving, and something about it jolted both of them into action. 

Sam screamed—a high, girly scream of fear, and ran out the back door. The sound of the door hitting the wall was lost in the rumbling noise as the car backed its way out of the driveway, following Sam. Possessed cars apparently did that.

Orion scrambled back into the kitchen and bolted through the opened door. She had never ran faster in her life. Her boots kissed the concrete as she pushed herself to go faster; bumping into people and screaming for Sam, skating around corners and further downtown as she tried to keep Sam and the car in her line of sight. She could barely make out anything in front of her as her eyes stung with tears. She ran down the middle of the road, weaving between cars. 

"Orion?" A voice called, coming from behind her. "What are you doing?"   
  
Orion swung around, her fist ready to embed itself in someone's face. She took a deep breath when she noticed that it was only Mikaela Banes. Leggy and beautiful, Mikaela had a body that all the boys drooled over. She went to school with Sam since first grade, but had failed to notice him at all during that entire time.    
  
"Nothing," she said. She turned at the waist and was preparing to start running again. "Just looking for Sam."   
  


She looked down the street and felt the horror creep down her spine. She had lost sight of Sam.    
  
Mikaela nodded. “I just saw him actually. I can give you a ride. I’m worried about him. He looked all nervous and sweaty, and was babbling.”

Orion almost laughed. That sounded like Sam on a good day. Her eyes swiveled back down the street. 

“Are you sure everything’s okay?” 

Orion swallowed convulsively twice before she found her voice, weak and shaky. “No.”

Mikaela’s eyebrows shot up. Her hands twisted nervously on the handles of the moped, and she looked uncertain as she stared at Orion. Her lips were pressed thin and Orion thought she was actually going to start up the vehicle and speed away. But she didn’t.

“Okay,” Mikaela said softly. “Do you need a ride?”

Orion blinked.  _ What the fuck?  _ She wondered if the day could get any weirder. She had never said more than one word to Mikaela, and now the girl was offering to help her. And she was also worried about  _ Sam _ . 

“Yeah. Thanks.” She didn’t want to drag Mikaela into their problem, but it was the truth. She could get to Sam quicker. 

The hamster wheel instead Orion’s head started up at the same time Mikaela started up her moped, trying to figure out things from different angles—and coming up blank again and again. For the most part she was taking everything pretty well. She was trying to make sure a demonic car didn’t murder her cousin. How was she going to explain this to the cops?

_ How am I going to explain this to Aunt Judy and Uncle Ron? _

Well, technically, since her aunt and uncle still thought that the car was missing, there wouldn’t be anything other than the back door left open and tire marks on the lawn to explain. Orion could say that it was Miles, that his dad finally let him drive his car, and that’s why there were skid marks everywhere….

A twitching pulse behind her right eye caught her unaware. She repositioned her arms around Mikaela’s waist and scooted closer to the girl. She rested her forehead against Mikaela’s shoulder, against the rough exit or of her denim jacket, and it felt good momentarily. Almost as good as being able to press the palm of her hand against her eyes so hard until she saw stars. Her head throbbed again. 

_ Oh, come on! Not now! I can’t deal with this right now! _

The sound of static echoed in her skull then, her heartbeat pounded loudly. 

_ “....affirmative, it’s Barricade….” _

_ “Autobots, foul Autobots, here we come….” _

_ “I have him in sight….” _

_ “....let our long war resume….” _

_ “....he’s after the human….” _

“Orion?” Mikaela’s voice sounded far away. “What’s wrong?”

Orion’s teeth chattered. She almost let go of Mikaela when the girl started moving again. What was wrong? If she had any idea what was wrong then she wouldn’t have been in the situation. 

“Make it stop,” she said into Mikaela’s shoulder.

“Orion?” Mikaela’s voice was louder, closer. Were they at another red light? “C’mon, you gotta talk to me. What’s wrong with you?”

Orion’s eyesight blurred, but not because tears were welling up. Everything became fuzzy; then she heard nothing at all. Her consciousness was floating through an empty space filled with a thick static. Throughout the inky space echoes sounded in her ears, alongside fading pleas of her name.

Orion was about to succumb to darkness, feeling her body being drained away until finally all was black, when she sensed something she shouldn’t have, something that broke through the static. Her mind became an inferno. It burnt bright and it felt natural. Her mind stretched into the divine ether and she felt connected to it, part of it. It felt like she could tap into the energy and transform it, shape it, give it life in the world. 

But then either it was taken away or she was. 

_ “Are you LadiesMan217?!” _

A chill ran through her spine as she heard the unknown voice in her head. It made her shudder like a freezing cold wind would wake someone. Her blood ran cold and a bead of sweat dripped down her face. She sat behind Mikaela—helpless, not knowing what to do and too scared to even think. 

A familiar cry of pain bounced around in her head. 

“Go faster!” Orion screamed, causing Mikaela to jerk in surprise, narrowly missing being hit by a car in the other lane. A horn blared, but Orion didn’t pay the irate driver any attention. All that mattered was getting to Sam. She  _ needed  _ to help Sam. “Goddamnit, Mikaela, make it go faster!”

Her voice cracked as she screamed, exhilaration and fear coursing throughout her body as Mikaela did as she instructed, weaving through the even faster cars as she did so. 

The girls turned the corner on the street and a slight movement caught Orion’s eye and her breath got stuck in her throat for a split second. Her gasping, shallow breaths of relief were suddenly audible over the heavy sound of Californian traffic. 

Sam locked eyes with her. He was on the other side of the road, sweating under the afternoon sun, his face dirty and his eyes wide. 

What the hell was he running from?

Sam was trying to tell them something, but his voice was no match for the traffic around them. Mikaela had spotted him too, which was evident as she started to pull up next to him. Before either of them could say anything, Sam tackled them off of the bike in one perfect shot. 

_ I guess he did learn something from football. _

Orion sucked in a gust of air, catching her breath as the pain settled. She got on her knees, hands on the gravel, her hair almost touching the ground. 

Mikaela was quicker to recover, probably because Orion had broken her fall. “What is your problem, Sam?”

“Okay, there’s a monster right there! It just attacked me!”

The two of them followed the path of Sam’s pointer finger.

A giant robot. It was taller than a giraffe and the size of an elephant. Running straight at them. 

**Author's Note:**

> Information/Credits/Disclaimers:
> 
> —All characters and events belong to Transformers, a media franchise produced by American toy company Hasbro and Japanese toy company Takara Tomy. Events from the live-action film series started in 2007 belong to the production and distribution companies.
> 
> —This chapter was not overlooked by a beta.


End file.
